The man in the apron laughed. "He hasn't won yet."
When Devon neared the oak and pressed his horse to turn, Cassie's hands flew to her mouth. He was nearly unseated as the bay crossed over in front of him, gaining the lead. "Cheat! Cheat!" she shouted, flailing her arms. "Come on, Devon! You can beat him!"
As the horses neared the finish line, the crowd backed up, giving the riders room. Undaunted by their speed, Cassie refused to move. When the tradesman shouted words of caution, she threw up a hand carelessly. No one was going to run her down—they wouldn't dare.
The bay and Devon's black came neck and neck across the meadow, the riders slung low on their backs. For just an instant, Cassie questioned whether Devon could pull ahead, but he didn't fail her and his Casper came in a full neck ahead of the bay.
Sweeping the pennies from the tradesman's hand, Cassie ran to meet Devon, her face beaming. "I knew you'd do it, I knew it!" She laughed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Devon chuckled, leaning to hoist her into his lap. The rum coursing through his veins combined with the thrill of victory made him bold. "You knew, did you?" He pressed his lips to hers, settling her on the saddle. "I'm glad someone did."
Cassie flung her arms around Devon's neck. He smelled of rum. "Sure I knew." She returned his kiss. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have laid a bet on you!"
Devon wrapped his arms possessively around her waist. Grinning, he pushed back a mass of damp curls from her shoulder and caught Mordecai's eye. His friend was leaning against a tree, sipping from a fresh bottle.
"So?" Mordecai mouthed silently. "Are we on?" He raised an eyebrow, the dare plain on his face.
Devon glanced down at the redhead in his arms. Her soft, fragrant body pressed against his as she laughed, wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek with her hand. His head spun wildly, his thoughts unclear. What the hell, he thought. Why not! Catching the reins in his hand, he turned to give Mordecai a wink, and sunk his heels into his steed's flanks, urging him forward. "We're on," he called over his shoulder.
Cassie leaned back against the trunk of the maple, letting her eyes drift shut. She'd never been so deliriously happy in her life! And it was all due to this man. She was amazed.
"More cheese?" Devon cut another slice from the quarter wheel he'd bought at the fair, taking a bite. The food had steadied him, but he still felt pleasantly numb.
Cassie ran her hand through his dark, wavy hair playfully. He was stretched out in the grass beside her, his head resting in her lap. "No, but I'll have another of those pears." She pointed to the pile beside him.
After the race, Devon had convinced Cassie that they should go somewhere quiet for supper. At first she'd been hesitant. Her good sense told her to stay in the public eye; but her heart won out in the end. She wanted to be alone with him. She wanted to rest in his arms. She wanted to feel his lips on hers again.
Devon tossed a soft, ripe pear to her. "I've never seen a girl who can eat like you." He shook his head. "I hope you're almost full; a man could go broke feeding you!"
Cassie took no insult. "I learned long ago to eat when there's food, and you'd best learn it, too. I'll warrant you there'll be no pear trees nor dairy cows on the battlefield." She bit into the sweet fruit, juice dribbling from the corner of her mouth.
Devon sat up, his eyes fixed on her heart-shaped face. It wasn't that he actually intended to go through with Mordecai's bet; things just seemed to be going in that general direction. He leaned to touch his lips to hers, his tongue darting out to lick the juice that ran down her chin. "You certainly are an expert on things, my sweet." His voice caressed her senses, sending a shiver down her back.
Cassie tipped back her head, giggling. They'd shared a small flask of rum since they'd left the fair grounds, making her a little tipsy. But what did she care? Why was it that only men were supposed to be able to drink themselves silly? It did a body good to lose all common sense once in a while! She tossed her pear core over her head and reached to run a finger down the bridge of Devon's nose. "This is quite the aristocratic nose you've got here, Master Marsh."
"Aristocratic, is it?" He nipped the end of her finger with his teeth.
Cassie nodded. "Got to have money . . . born with a beak like that." She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in mock sadness.
"Hey, watch it!" he rubbed his nose. "What's wrong with my nose?"
"Not a thing! I'm just saying that it's obvious from the looks of your nose that you're a man of means. All men with straight noses are born with money." She dropped a light kiss on the end of it.
Devon growled deep in his throat, grabbing her and rolling her over in the grass until he was on top. "Is that so?" He pinned her flailing arms to her sides. "Well, I happen to like my nose!"
He leaned so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. He smelled of rum, tobacco, and horseflesh, an arousing, masculine scent that enveloped her. "I didn't say I didn't like your nose," she whispered.
Devon groaned. God, she's beautiful, he thought as he lowered his mouth until it was only a breath's distance from hers. Deep within, a warning flashed. Back off, he told himself. Before this gets out of hand. But he couldn't; all he could think of was this Irish tavern wench, soft and warm beneath him.
Cassie waited with anticipation, her eyelids drifting shut, as he pressed his lips to hers with tantalizing deliberation. His tongue darted out to taunt, teasing until she pressed her mouth hungrily to his, her fingers laced through his hair. His taste was intoxicating. No man had ever kissed her like this before.
Devon moaned huskily, sliding a hand up to catch Cassie's chin. She smelled of damp hair and fresh pears. Her lips were so soft, the cool inner walls of her mouth sweet-tasting. No woman had ever sent such shivers of warm desire through his body like this. No woman had ever made him want to please her the way he wanted to please Cassie. Planting soft, fleeting kisses across her flushed cheeks, he brought up a hand to rest comfortably on a well-rounded breast.
Cassie struggled for a moment, but the rhythmic tremors he sent through her body with a steady flick of his thumb were undeniable. Slowly, she relaxed in the grass, staring up at the rising moon. Devon's head rested on her shoulder, as he continued his sweet caress. "You've a light touch," she whispered, forcing the words from her mouth.
Devon chuckled, nibbling the tender flesh of her neckline. "Such a beauty," he murmured, tugging at her bodice with his teeth. All was forgotten for the moment—the war, Mordecai's bet. All Devon wanted to do was feel her naked flesh against his.
"I'm not," she breathed raggedly. "But thank you for saying so."
Devon ran a hand through her wild mane of hair, pressing his body against hers as she strained to meet his urgent kisses. Running her hands over the broad expanse of his back, she marveled at what a huge man he was. The weight of his hard, muscular body against her sent shivers of pleasure through her body. She had never realized how many ways a person could feel so good! Her breasts felt as if they were on fire, yet she strained against his hand, urging him on.
Lowering his head, Devon closed his mouth over one ripe breast and Cassie gasped at the first contact of his wet mouth touching her hardened nipple. A soft moan rumbled deep in her throat as she eased down into the grass again, arching her back. She ran her fingers wildly through his hair as he tugged at the shoulder of her rough shirt, releasing bare flesh. Deep in her groin Cassie felt a whirling, burning heat as she moved against Devon's hot, wet mouth.
Slowly, he lowered a hand to caress a shapely thigh, and then he began to move it higher in anticipation.
Suddenly, Cassie sat up, pushing his head from her breast and catching his hand with hers. "Move an inch higher and I'll cut it off," she breathed, her words coming in short bursts.
Devon's first reaction was to laugh. "What? What are you talking about?" He moved to take her in his arms again but she stopped him short.
"I'm not kidding." She slipped out the knife she'd tucked in her stocking, flashing it in th
e moonlight.
Devon blinked, shaking his head. He could barely hear her words for the sound of his own rushing blood. "Cassie? What are you doing?"
She jerked away. "I can't. I won't." Her head was spinning, as much from the heat of passion as from the rum. In a moment or two she wouldn't have been able to stop him . . . to stop herself. She wanted him; she wanted to experience all there was to experience with Devon. But if she did, she'd regret it the rest of her life.
"What's the matter, Cassie? Please tell me." His head was pounding. "It's all right, love. This is what a man's and a woman's body were made for." He reached to stroke her trembling hand. "I would never hurt you."
She rolled out from under him, getting to her feet as she pulled her bodice over her exposed breasts. What was this ache in her body that left her heart pounding and her lungs short of air? "I can't, Devon. I'm sorry." Tears brimmed in her eyes. She wanted him so desperately; she wanted to love and be loved. "I'm sorry I led you on." She hung her head. "It was wrong." How could she tell him that she couldn't make love to him because she loved him? How could she explain to him the ties that would be bound when she gave herself to him? If she made love to Devon now, she would never be free of him . . . never.
"I don't understand." He breathed deeply, rolling onto his back, his groin aching. He had never wanted a woman more than he wanted Cassie right now. "What do you mean, you can't? I haven't forced you. You wanted me to touch you."
A flush of pink crept across her cheeks. "I know," she admitted. "I wanted you. I still want you . . ." She looked away. "But I can't . . . I just can't." She stared up at the sky, watching the dark clouds of night shift and blow east.
"What, you're married?" Devon got to his feet slowly. "Betrothed?" His voice was raw with mixed emotions. The thought that she might belong to another had never crossed his mind, and now it angered him.
"No." She shook her head. Was that jealousy she detected in his voice? She laughed uneasily, stalling for time. She couldn't tell him she loved him. "It's just that . . . that I promised my father I wouldn't," she lied. "I promised him I would save myself for my husband." She nodded her chin with finality. It was as good as any excuse.
Devon wished he had not had so much to drink; he was having a hard time following her. A virgin? He hadn't thought of that either. He'd never made love to a virgin. All his previous encounters had been with experienced women. Could it be true? Cassie had admitted to being a camp follower; she was a tavern maid. He knew she was no lightskirt, but surely . . . No, nothing would surprise him about Cassie. He released her hand and rubbed his eyes. "I thought . . . I thought you said your parents were never married." If Cassie was illegitimate, she'd have been raised outside the bounds of society, wouldn't she?
"They weren't. But what difference does that make to you?" she snapped, stiffening. Did Devon care that she was a bastard? Her heartbeat was slowing to an even pace now. She slipped her knife back into her stocking. "That's why Paddie made me promise; he wanted things to be easier for me than they were for my mother."
"Cassie, Cassie." She allowed him to take her in his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ." He was stroking her back now, his voice calm and soothing. "Come sit with me, just for a few minutes."
"I'm not fooling with you, Devon Marsh." She pushed at his chest, leaning back to stare at him. "I'll have no more sweet talk from you tonight." It felt so good to be in his arms. "I think you'd better take me home."
Devon's eyes narrowed. "You mean to tell me that you're saving yourself until you wed?" There was no hint of recrimination in his voice.
She nodded. "It's what I said, isn't it?" She pulled away again, going to pick up her new straw hat off the grass.
"Well then, if you must have your way, have it you shall." Devon grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward his horse. He knew he was being irrational, but he didn't care. He had to have her!
"What? What are you talking about?" Cassie resisted, but his grip was like iron. Why was he grinning so devilishly? "Devon, this isn't funny. Let go of me."
Reaching Casper, Devon untied the reins from the tree and swung into the saddle, still holding Cassie's wrist. "Come on with you. This was your idea." He leaned to help her into the saddle.
"You're taking me home, aren't you?"
He nodded. "Yes, I'm taking you home, love. But first we've got a stop to make." Pulling the reins taut, he urged the horse forward.
Cassie turned in the saddle. She didn't like that twinkle in his eye. "Where are you taking me?"
"It was your idea." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm only obliging a lady."
"What was my idea?" Cassie laced her fingers in Casper's mane, holding on as he picked up speed.
"It was your idea to get married. We're going to get married."
"We're what?" Cassie's eyes grew huge. "I'm not marrying you! Let me down, you drunken fool!" She stared through the darkness at those dark stag eyes. My God, she thought, he's serious!
"You said you were saving your maidenhead for your husband. Well, I intend to be your husband." Devon laughed, pleased with himself. He would have her, war be damned! If he didn't come back alive from the fighting, at least he would have had something worth dying for.
"You're not serious. Let me down, Devon. You're drunk," she shouted over her shoulder. "You can't marry me," she added, more to herself than to him.
"So what if I'm drunk? Is there a law that says drunk men can't marry? If there were, half the marriages in the Colonies wouldn't be legal." He kissed the back of her neck, urging Casper around the corner of the Green.
"This isn't funny." Cassie didn't know what to say; he was offering her the world. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think he would want to marry her. But it wasn't right. He didn't know what he was saying. This was all happening too fast. "You can't marry me, Devon. It isn't right."
"The hell I can't!" He was drunk, but not too drunk to know what he was doing. All the reasons for walking away from this woman meant nothing. He wanted her, not just for a night, but for all the nights to come. You love her, an inner voice whispered. You really love her . . . if you know what love is. And if you let her go, you'll never find another like her.
Cassie's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. This couldn't be happening. But it was happening; it would happen if she let it. Get off this horse and get off now, her voice of reason screamed. This man doesn't love you!
"Finally shut up, have you?" Devon's breath was hot in her ear.
"No, I haven't shut up." She tried to reason with him in a different manner. "How can we get married this late at night? Let's go home and think about it." She leaned back, snuggling against him. "We can talk about it tomorrow when our heads are clearer."
Devon brought the horse to a rough halt. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he turned her around. "Cassie, do you want to marry me or not?"
The word no formed on her lips, but before she could get it out, she heard herself whisper yes. "Yes, I want to marry you," she murmured. "I know I shouldn't, but holy hell, yes, I'll marry you."
Chapter Four
Cassie giggled, putting her hand over her mouth. "Get down from there! Devon . . ." She couldn't help laughing. He looked so comical balanced on the rain barrel. "You're going to fall off and break your neck; what good will you be in my bed then?" She planted her hands on her hips, trying to be serious. "Then all of this will have been for naught. Now get down!" She lowered an arm with great flourish.
Devon pulled another rock from his pocket and took aim. "Hush, wench, you'll wake everyone on the Green!" He let the rock fly, hearing it hit glass with a resounding crack.
"You're going to break the window, then the sheriff'll be on us." Cassie swatted him playfully on the buttocks, dissolving into another fit of giggles. "That'll be quite the wedding night! Think the jailor'll let us share a mat?"
Devon's laughter mixed with hers. "He might at that!" Looking back up at the window, he shook his head. "The reverend must sleep lik
e a rock." He pulled another gray stone from his pocket. "Maybe this'll wake him up."
"Now you've done it!" Cassie's hands flew to her cheeks at the sound of shattering glass. "You think the good reverend's gonna marry us in the middle of the night as payment for breakin' his glass windows?" Her eyes grew wide. "Hell and fire! Here he comes!" She ducked into the shadows of the brick building.
The reverend pressed his face to the broken pane, his nightcap perched precariously on his balding head. "What's going on out there?" He raised a candle to the window. "Someone out there?"
"'Evening to you, sir." Devon reached to sweep off his hat, but found it missing from his head. He let his hand drop. "It's Devon Marsh. I was wondering if you might do me a favor, sir."
The reverend peered down at Devon from the second story. "A favor? In the middle of the night? Have you taken leave of your senses, boy?" He threw open the window and leaned out. "Master Marsh, have you been drinking inebriants?"
Cassie crawled on her hands and knees to the rain barrel, taking care to keep in the shadows. "Devon," she whispered loudly. "I'm not even supposed to be out on the streets this late. Master George's going to have my head. Let's just go while we still can." She thumped his polished boot.
Devon looked down at Cassie on the ground, a broad smile crossing his face. "He'll not call the sheriff on us; I've got something on him," he whispered in return. "Now stand up." He put a hand out to her.
"Master Marsh, I demand to know what's going on down there! Who is that young lady?" He leaned out the window a little farther. "There had better be a good explanation for this, because your father is going to want to hear it when I give him a full report of your evening's activities." He shook a bony finger at him. "Wasn't it you last year that—"
The Officer's Desire Page 4
